Behind Every Mask
by BlondeChick2009
Summary: Behind every Death Eater's mask, there's a story.  A tale of a father's plea for forgiveness at a time it was most imperative.  One-shot.  For The Fourth Black Sister's challenge: Slytherin Competition.


My one-shot for The Fourth Black Sister's challenge: Slytherin Competition at Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenge. She assigned a character and I had to write about him.

Character: Cygnus Black III (Bellatrix, Narcissa, Andromeda's father)

EDITED: Since it seems that that fanfiction can't write OWLs properly :P

* * *

**_Behind Every Mask…_**

_March 1979_

Everyone was shocked when Cygnus Black III asked to see his youngest daughter, Andromeda Tonks, by his deathbed. Bellatrix attributed it to a fevered mind. Narcissa agreed. So, for several days, no one complied with his wishes.

On the last day of his lingering illness, however, Cygnus demanded obedience, and ordered the house elf to summon Andromeda. Bellatrix and Narcissa's objections fell on deaf ears. He expressively told them that under no uncertain terms were they to harm Andromeda if she chose to come. Nor would they harm her husband, should she wish to bring him.

Bellatrix and Narcissa left the sickroom without another word. They would not harm their sister. But they could not promise to leave a muggle unscathed if one wandered willingly into a house of pureblooded magic.

Perhaps Andromeda foresaw this once she received the summons, for she arrived to the house later that night, alone.

Andromeda was sure her face gave away her shock as Bellatrix opened the door. She had been certain that of her two sisters, Narcissa would have been more disposed to answer her call.

Her alarm at Bellatrix's action dropped, however, as her sister merely stared blankly at her and pointed to a closed door.

Andromeda kept her eyes on Bellatrix as she slowly walked to the door. Her older sister watched until Andromeda's hand was on the handle before she swept off into another room. Clearly, that was all the attention she'd pay to her estranged sister.

Andromeda didn't dwell on it. She entered the room.

Her father awaited her, propped up on several pillows. He managed a small grimace upon seeing her.

"Andromeda," he acknowledged cordially.

She approached his bed, keenly aware of Salazar Slytherin scrutinizing her from his portrait above the fireplace. He hissed at her disgustedly in parseltongue, no doubt insulting her.

Cygnus glanced at the painting before waving it off impatiently.

"Ignore him, 'Meda," said the dying man.

Andromeda widened her eyes at his use of a long forgotten nickname. The gasp that she emitted was in response to his rudeness to Slytherin.

The portrait obviously found him equally astonishing and took offense, for he directed his strangled hisses at the dying man, eyes narrowed in anger.

Andromeda looked on, all the more astounded as Cygnus waved his hand again. "There's nothing you can do to me, Salazar, for I am already too near death to care."

Salazar left the portrait without another hiss.

Cygnus looked as his daughter and smiled softly. "You don't wish to be here."

She looked at her feet.

"You're not the only one, you know. Bella and Cissy were quite horrified that I wished to speak with you."

"Why _did_ you wish to speak with me?"

Cygnus patted the mattress beside him. Andromeda sat. "I wished to tell you about myself."

Andromeda began to say she knew enough about him to last her a lifetime, but Cygnus's raised hand stopped her.

"I mean, about the man who barely anyone knows; the one I barely know myself."

She didn't know why she stayed. She supposed his feeble voice did it. That and he sounded like this was a last chance effort for forgiveness.

"Alright."

Cygnus smiled genuinely at her. "I've never told you about my first year at Hogwarts."

* * *

_September 1940_

Cygnus watched the sorting, dreading his turn.

The hat was shouting houses quickly, putting Ackleby in Hufflepuff, Aldridge in Ravenclaw, Benton, in Ravenclaw, Bestin in Gryffindor, Bitten in Slytherin. Soon, his name would be called, and he would have to endure the hat telling everyone where he'd spend his days while at Hogwarts.

Yet everyone knowing where he'd be wasn't his main concern. His main fear was that the hat would linger on him for more than a few seconds, wondering why this boy was here at all.

"Black, Cygnus."

Someone pushed him forward. His knees didn't want to move properly.

What if he wasn't put in Slytherin? His family expected—no _knew_—he'd be in Slytherin.

But the hat didn't seem to miss a breath, and as Professor Dippet placed the hat on his head, Cygnus wondered if it would miss something while it searched his mind and heart.

The hat was silent for a moment before it began to talk to him. Or, more to itself.

"Courageous are you? Very good, very good. Tenacious, hardworking…"

It continued to ramble on, making suggestions, immediately revoking them. Cygnus gripped the stool, getting splinters in his fingers, wishing it would hurry up.

"You can't rush perfection, sonny."

_You can hear me?_

"Well, of course! Now…Gryffindor would be an excellent—"

_NO!_

"No?"

_I mean, my whole family has been in Slytherin…_

"I see. You know, there's always a first—"

_But, my family...they expect Slytherin._

"Do you want Slytherin?"

_Well…I suppose…_

"It's all up to you." And then... "SLYTHERIN."

Professor Dippet removed the hat, and Cygnus made his way to the table where everyone was clapping politely.

He looked around at the people he would get to know in the next few years, struck by how solemn most of them looked.

People at the Gryffindor table were smiling and shaking each other's hands…

* * *

_September 1942_

Cygnus sat in a train compartment, alone, reading his spell books. He was entering his third year as a Slytherin in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. All his classes would be more advanced. The older students from last year had warned that the younger ones would be subject to the professors' constant harping about OWLs

His peers had groaned at this. Cygnus wasn't excited, but he knew the importance of achieving first-rate scores. His family was living proof of the success they had all received on their fifth year exams.

While he was reading, the door to his compartment slid open, and three boys entered. One of them was Tom Riddle, an exceedingly exceptional seventh year Slytherin, who excelled in all of his classes and charmed everyone he met.

Cygnus admired Tom a lot, and wondered why this brilliant young man was gracing him with his presence. He was only a lowly third year.

"Hello, Cygnus how was your summer?" Tom asked as he and his friends (Devon Goyle and Ignatius Prewett) sat down across from him. This was another reason Cygnus liked Tom. He always took the time to remember his housemates' names.

"Pretty good, thank you. And yours?" Cygnus asked this as a pleasantry since he knew Tom hated the orphanage he was forced to return to at the end of every school year.

Tom seemed to understand, though, since he answered lightly, "It was okay. Spent most of my time in Knockturn Alley. I'm bloody glad to not have to spend every moment at that dreadful orphanage."

Cygnus nodded.

"Anyway, I've managed to get a job at Borgin and Burkes for next summer. I'm planning on finding somewhere to live in the alley."

"That's great," Cygnus exclaimed. Tom deserved a good break.

Tom nodded and smiled thankfully. "I know; I'm really looking forward to it. Say, Cygnus, would you like to join my little club I'm putting together?"

Cygnus felt his eyes bulge. "Me? Really?"

"Yes. I've talked with Devon and Ignatius here, and we've agreed that you show immense ability. We'd be honored to have you in the club."

Cygnus felt extremely happy all of the sudden. He had a few acquaintances, but had yet to make any real friends. And to be involved in a group with Tom Riddle, well, he'd have something fantastic to tell his family. It didn't matter that Tom said "club" as though it wasn't any such thing at all…

"I'd love to join! What would I have to do?"

Tom grinned delightfully. "I'm glad, Cygnus. Right now, you won't have to do anything much. I just want you to pledge your loyalty. It's an exclusive club, you understand, Slytherins only."

Cygnus nodded understandingly.

"And, you can call me Lord Voldemort."

Cygnus frowned. "Why?"

Tom leaned forward, clasping his hands. He spoke in a low tone. "Well, you see, I don't really like my name very much. My father was a cowardly muggle, and I hate to be associated with him. I feel like people might judge me based on his actions."

The younger Slytherin nodded again.

"And so I came up with this little moniker of sorts, one only my closest friends are allowed to use."

Cygnus felt himself mimicking Tom's bright smile. Him? One of Tom's closest friends?

"Sure, Tom—I mean, Lord Voldemort."

If felt right to call Tom a lord. He certainly deserved it more than a pitiful muggle's name.

Lord Voldemort grinned even more brightly. "Thanks, Cygnus. You can call me Tom when we're around others outside the club, though. They might ask annoying questions."

"Okay."

Tom stood to take his leave, motioning for Devon and Ignatius to follow.

"Wait, To—Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes, Cygnus?"

"Since this is your seventh year, and only my third, how can I be involved after you've left?" Cynus asked worriedly.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Lord Voldemort said as he opened the door, "I intend to keep in contact with all my followers."

* * *

_February 1944_

Cygnus stared at the ceiling of the Great Hall, searching for his owl.

It had been several months since Lord Voldemort had written to him of his travels and plans. Cygnus was beginning to worry that some of his more—touchy—endeavors had gotten him caught by the aurors.

Cygnus wasn't concerned about Lord Voldemort's dealings. They were necessary to ensure that only the smartest, purest of wizards and witches would thrive. As he understood it, Lord Voldemort was planning on counter-arguing the Ministry of Magic's many muggle-protection policies. Cygnus sneered into his toast. The fools at the ministry didn't understand the importance of wizards holding power over their lesser cousins…

When his owl failed to appear, he went back to studying for his OWLs. Lord Voldemort had stressed to the followers he still had in Hogwarts that they were to do well on their exams. He had said that only the most brilliant minds would be able to keep up with the plans he had in store for the wizarding world. Cygnus silently agreed with the sentiment.

He chanced a glance over at the Gryffindor table where several red-headed wizards were causing a boisterous racket. They were, evidently, in the midst of a grueling wizard-chess tournament, and everyone who had crowded around them were cheering and applauding enthusiastically.

Cygnus curled his lip at the theatrics the Weasley's were pulling off as they battled.

_Imbeciles…_

"Hello, Cygnus."

He looked up into the eyes of Druella Rosier.

"Hi, Dru. How was Transfiguration?" He cleared his books from the bench so she could sit down.

"Awful…Dumbledore is a mad old man."

Cygnus made a concerned noise in his throat. Albus Dumbledore was, indeed, batty.

"But, I have Potions next, so hopefully things get better."

"They should, Slughorn is showing the fourth years how to brew a hiccup curing draft, I heard."

Druella smiled at him. "That should be interesting. Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"

"I guess so. There's nothing better to do around here." He looked back over at the Gryffindor table. It seemed they were starting round two…

"Could I join you? My friends have to stay here to make up some Charms homework."

"Hmm?" Cygnus tore his attention from the competition.

Druella frowned at the Gryffindors, and repeated her question, less heartedly than before. "Could I join you? My friends can't go."

"Oh, of course. I'll meet you in the courtyard."

Druella went to Potions, smiling.

* * *

_October 1945_

The Halloween feast was in full swing. Druella sat on Cygnus's right, his friend Felix Dolohov on his left.

It was his sixth year of Hogwarts; he'd gotten Outstandings on all of his OWLs, and was enjoying his advanced classes immensely.

Cygnus wasn't even bothered by the fact that Lord Voldemort hadn't written in weeks.

He looked at Druella and smiled, knowing that she'd be his bride one day. He couldn't imagine spending his life with anyone else.

She smiled back. "What?"

"Nothing, just thinking how pretty you look tonight."

"Oh, thank you, Cygnus." She beamed and went back to her meal.

Suddenly someone placed a hand on Cygnus's shoulder. "I need to talk to you."

It was Devon Goyle's younger brother, Charles. Cygnus nodded, "Sure. I'll be right back, Dru, gotta run to the loo."

Druella nodded absentmindedly. Cygnus followed Goyle out into the hall.

"What is it?"

"You have to come to Hogsmeade this weekend."

"Alright…why?"

Goyle steered him further from the Great Hall. "Lord Voldemort is going to be a the Hog's Head."

Cygnus felt his heart beat in excitement. "Really?"

Goyle nodded. He glanced over his shoulder and Cygnus saw his face fall.

The Head Boy, a Gryffindor, was fast approaching. "What are you two doing here?"

"Bathroom, Weasley," Cygnus spat contemptuously, "Or is that against your rules?"

Septimus Weasley Jr. glared at Cygnus before replying. "No…be off then."

He walked back into the Great Hall.

Goyle smirked after him. "It's the likes of him that Lord Voldemort is doing what he's doing."

Cygnus nodded his agreement. "So what does the Dark Lords want?"

"Something about making us permanent members," Goyle shrugged. "Devon was pretty hush about it in his letter. Say, why don't you bring Druella?"

Cygnus grimaced. For some reason, he didn't want Druella involved in whatever Lord Voldemort was planning. "Maybe," he answered carefully.

"Right, I'll see you tomorrow at one p.m. then." Goyle sauntered back to the feast.

Cygnus followed shortly after, wondering why his heart wouldn't let him tell Druella about his involvement with Lord Voldemort…

* * *

_June 1946_

As Cygnus listened to newly appointed headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, give the closing speech to the graduating seventh years, he rubbed his left arm distractedly.

"Stop messing with it," Druella warned under her breath.

"It's burning again," he whispered back.

Druella looked at him blankly. "Well, you can't very well leave in the middle of your graduation."

_She's right,_ he thought.

"I wish he'd hurry up," he said instead, nodding towards Dumbledore.

"So eager to leave?" Druella asked with agitation in her voice.

"You know that's not why…"

Cygnus was cut off by Professor McGonagall's curt hush.

Druella turned her attention back to Dumbledore.

Cygnus sighed. She knew about his responsibilities, so why was she acting as if they didn't matter? Again, he rubbed his arm as it burned worse than before.

He looked around the table, noticing that several of his friends were scratching at their arms too, looking pensive.

No one else in the Hall was bothering with their arms. No one else felt the Dark Lord's pull. No one else was branded.

Druella elbowed him when Dumbledore finished speaking. He applauded politely with everyone else.

He'd graduated.

Tomorrow he'd be on the train home, ready to begin life as an adult wizard.

As he stood to leave with the rest of his class, Cygnus felt the reality of the situation settle in.

He was now free to do the Dark Lord's bidding whenever he called for him…

* * *

_1949_

Cygnus looked at the muggle woman crying at his feet.

She kept repeating the name "William" over and over again in retching gasps.

William lay, dead, several feet away.

"Crucio!"

The woman began screaming as Cygnus's curse ripped through her body.

Several people laughed as the woman convulsed on the floor, trying to reach her dead fiancé's body.

"That's enough, Cygnus, you can let her go," a bored voice drawled from the front of the circle.

Cygnus broke the curse and the woman went silent, curled in a ball. She had nearly made it to her loved one's side.

Lord Voldemort approached. "You've done well. Usually a Death Eater's first torture victim is too much for them…"

Cygnus didn't take his eyes off the woman who continually mumbled the dead man's name.

Lord Voldemort addressed his gathered followers. "You see, muggles do not matter. They're filth! If you stay with me, I can assure that you will be greatly awarded."

The newest members nodded appreciatevily at the Dark Lord's words. The pending members looked hungry for the power that radiated off of him and his senior Death Eaters.

Lord Voldemort stared down at the woman, shaking his head grimly. "A shame, she's held up well. Too bad she wasn't born a pureblooded witch."

The woman, whose name Cygnus didn't know, pleaded with Lord Voldemort, apologizing for making him angry. Cygnus wanted to throw up.

When she wasn't forgiven, she began crawling for William again.

"Ah, ah, ah," Lord Voldemort warned, "Avada Kedavra!"

Everyone laughed as they walked away, following Lord Voldemort like excited puppies.

Only Cygnus remained, looking at the dead woman.

Her hand was outstretched, inches from her fiancé's own.

* * *

_1960_

Cygnus sat with his wife, watching his three daughters run around playing with toy broomsticks.

Druella was reading the paper, tut-ing at the latest scandals.

"Bella! Bet you can't catch me!" Andromeda screamed delightedly, racing away on her broomstick. Cygnus chuckled, she wasn't going all that fast.

"Bet you I can!" Bellatrix chased after her, gliding along as fast as her broom could carry her.

Narcissa seemed to realize this method was futile and hopped off of hers. Running, she leapt on Andromeda and they both went rolling across the den carpet.

"Cissy!" Andromeda laughed as they tumbled around.

Bellatrix, taking leaf from her five year old sister, jumped off her own broom and joined the tussle.

Druella looked up. "Girls! You're going to the ruin your dresses!"

"Aw, let them play." Cygnus laughed as Andromeda experienced a burst of magic that caused Narcissa's white-blonde hair to turn a shocking shad of puce.

"DADDY! MY HAIR!"

Cygnus quickly changed her hair back before she could throw a tantrum.

All the girls then ran off into the kitchen, chattering loudly about tea time.

Druella smiled after them. Cygnus sighed, content.

Suddenly, Bellatrix came running back out, holding out her arm, a black marker gripped in the opposite hand.

"Look, Daddy! We match!"

She presented her left arm, proudly pointing at it.

Cygnus's heart froze.

A crudely drawn Dark Mark was smeared across his oldest daughter's arm.

He looked at Druella, who gazed back, defeated.

"That's nice…why don't you go wash up for tea?"

Bellatrix pouted but went to do as she was told.

"Are you proud of your daughter?" Druella asked.

* * *

_1977_

"Get out of this house, you traitor!"

Cygnus returned home from his latest task set by the Dark Lord to be welcomed by Bellatrix screaming at Andromeda.

Andromeda was crying by the front door while Bellatrix and Narcissa pointed their wands at them.

Cygnus ran over. "What is going on here?"

"She's dating a muggle!" Bellatrix yelled, red in the face.

"He's a nice boy, Daddy," Andromeda shouted back, still crying.

Narcissa remained silent, staring at her younger sister as though she was a particularly foul insect.

Cygnus felt anger boil up. "A muggle?"

Andromeda flinched at his tone. "Yes," she spat defiantly.

Cygnus realized that this was why she had been acting worried and guilty for the past several weeks. She had also been spending many days down in the village.

Bellatrix screamed in anger again, brandishing her wand more violently. "Wait until the Dark Lord hears about this, Andromeda!"

"NO!"

Bellatrix and Narcissa looked at their father, shocked.

"What do you mean?" Bellatrix asked.

"I'm in charge of this household, Bella. The Dark Lord needn't be summoned for something this trivial." Cygnus walked between three daughters. "Andromeda. Leave. Don't dare show your face here ever again."

Andromeda began to protest, crying harder than ever.

Cygnus held up a hand. "NOW."

Andromeda yanked the door open and ran, taking nothing with her. Bellatrix set about destroying everything her sickening sister had ever owned. Narcissa eagerly helped.

Cygnus retired to his bedroom where the portrait of his deceased wife glared down at him.

"At least she's out of _his_ way, Dru."

* * *

_March 1979_

Andromeda listened to her father finish his story.

"I only wanted you safe, 'Meda."

And somehow, she wasn't angry. She simply nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She didn't remember when she had started crying. She thought it might have been when her father had—when he had described the woman and her fiancé…

Now as she looked at him, Andromeda saw the man she had loved and admired when she was three years old. True, he was pale and feeble, but he still exuded a need for respect. He still seemed the kind father she wished he had remained.

And now he was asking for her forgiveness at the most imperative of times.

Andromeda knew she'd never tell Bellatrix and Narcissa that she had forgiven their father. She wouldn't tell them what he had shared with her. They didn't deserve to know that their father had been a better man than they had ever known.

She didn't even tell them that she was leaving the house. When she reached the gatepost, she took one last look back and apparated from her ancestral home for the last time.

Cygnus Black III patiently awaited death's cold touch, wondering if he'd see Dru when he got where he was going. Probably not—she hadn't taken part in his deeds.

Before he closed his eyes forever, he wondered, not for the first time, how his life would have been different had he chosen Gryffindor…


End file.
